Two Cruel Blows
by Kate-Emma
Summary: Complete - A tribute to Sam Harker is held by family and friends to remember a great copper, a loyal son and a diehard Reds fan. To remember Hillsborough, 17 years on. For Paul.
1. Two Cruel Blows

**Two Cruel Blows**

**The Bill**

**PG**

On the night of the 16th of April 2002, Sam Harker fell into a coma that he wouldn't wake up from.

Now, two years later, his family decide to pay one final tribute to their fallen loved one with a moving ceremony to commemorate both his love for his job and his on-going love for his football team... for Des didn't know it when he blew up the station, but 13 years ago, just the day before, 96 of Sam's fellow Scousers had died with him.

**A/N:** This may be near impossible for people who aren't diehard Liverpool FC fans like myself, to understand, but April 15th(and 16th) are two very hard days for me. On April 15, 96 football fans were crushed to death at Hillsborough Stadium, and then on April 16 my favourite character on TB was killed off. It is a cruel, cruel coincidence indeed. 96 of my Liverpool FC brothers and sisters, and then my favourite Liverpudlian copper 13 years later.

This fic is set in 2004, which is the year i originally intended to write it, but you know me, i'm horriblewith these kinds of things. I only found it the other day on an old floppy when i was at my dad's work.

2004 marked the 15th anniversary of the Hillsborough tragedy and the 2nd anniversary o Sam's passing.

Although Sam's death is somewhat a cruel joke, he is only a TV character, Hillsborough is no joke. 96 people died, and no one was ever held responsible. So, Justice for the 96, even 17 years on...

**Disclaimer**: I don't own TB or Sam. Although all the families names belong to me, the idea of the family belongs to TB writers, therefore that is their work by default. I am merely typing the worsd they've inspired into my head.

**A/N 2**: This is a two-shot. I'm known for these. They're like a one-shot, except without lyrics and they have two chapters. The first chapter is set in 2002, when Sam dies and the second is in 2004.


	2. Easter 2002

Chapter One:

Easter 2002

Sam was slightly drunk. Okay, maybe more than slightly. But still, he knew what was going on. He knew what he'd seen. Even his blurred, beer-goggled eyes could tell him that what he'd seen was more than a drunken apparition.

The question was, what could he do about it?

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. One minute he'd seen Des throw a petrol bomb into Monroe's office, and then there'd been darkness, the next moment he felt himself turn back towards the balcony doors that led back into where four people he worked with were waiting for him. Well, Di was anyway. She was the resident mother in the station, she was there to clean up and drag him home. Sam knew she wouldn't make it home. He knew he wouldn't make it home.

As he stepped inside everything sped up and then quickly slowed down again. He saw eyes turn on him, he opened his mouth to speak.

What could he say though?

Kate, Di, Ben and Paul were all just looking at him, blank expressions on their faces. Couldn't they see the fear in his eyes?

He knew he'd never be able to get the words out in time. he knew he wouldn't even be able to move. So, there he stayed, rooted to the spot in the balcony doorway, his back to the wind and his face to the death.

He could almost hear the fire spreading through the station, thw whoosh of heat and danger that meant an explosion was coming, and even before it came he could hear the screams of death. He'd heard this kind of death before, the kind that is slow and agonizing, a pain that comes with watching life slip away before your eyes. Other's lives. Your own life.

Sam prayed silently, as the ground beneath his feet began to feel hot, that this death would be fast and painless. He didn't need that kind of ache again...

* * *

In a small house in Knowsley, Anne Harker suddenly held her breath.

A cold shiver ran up her spine, almost as if someone had walked over her grave. But it was more than that, much more than that.

Glancing arund the room, to see if her husband Robert had left a window or the door open, Anne's eyes stopped on a picture on the mantlepiece of her youngest son on his 10th birthday. She'd always loved that photo.

She smiled slowly, knowing perfectly well what was putting her off.

Her baby boy, even at 30, hadn't returned home for the memorial. At first Anne hadn't liked it, but then she'd realised what it was. He'd moved on. He'd learnt to accept what had happened. He'd grown into the man she had always known he would become.

Her little Sam, he was a man now, a respectable policeman in London and he was perfectly fine.

Anne chided herself. For a split second she'd thought otherwise.

She glanced at the kitchen window, realising it was indeed open. Just an inch.

She laughed aloud.

* * *

Des could only watch, could only avert hsi eyes as the top floor of the station burst into flames. The glass exploded, raining down on him. He didn't shield himself from the glass. He needed it to cut him. He needed that kind of pain.

There then came the flames through the windows and door, billowing around and then suddenly being sucked back in. The noise followed, as if it felt it had been left behind. So loud, like an angry roar. It was so loud Des could hear nothing else, not even his own screams of anguish and hate as he crunched his fists into balls and swore loudly at himself.

'You, you killed them all.' He yelled at himself.

He could feel his short nails digging into his palms, but he didn't remove them. Let them bleed. Let them hurt.

'Let me die.' He begged silently to the sky. Des wasn't a religious man, but if God were real he'd let him die. But Des didn't die and once the noise stopped there was a cruel and mockign silence.

Des rose to his feet. He needed to get inside. He needed to find someone alive. He needed to redeem himself. If he didn't, he didn't know what he'd do next...

* * *

Sam was still standing. He couldn't believe he was still standing.

He didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to see what was aroudn him.

He knew it was destruction, death, and that orange flicker. The light of the flames lit up his eyelids.

He couldn't hear anything, there was just silence. That horrible silence. Not even screams of agony, moans of pain, just deathly silence.

Maybe he was dead too? Maybe this was the entryway to heaven?

But then, it felt hot. Maybe this was hell?

Sam realised it was likely hell. He'd never been a good Christian. He didn't believe a single thing the 'good book' said. He never had. But hsi mother was so in love with her faith, Sam couldn't hurt her by denying it, so he'd played along.

All of a sudden Sam's thoughts were interupted as noise suddenly burst into his ears. It exploded around him, as if someone had just flicked on the radio. There were screams, there were cheers, there were sirens, there were people begging. Sam froze. He'd heard this before.

He squeezed his eyes tighter. Let the devil play his games, he wouldn't face this again.

Somethign hit him in the back of the head, and elbow by the feel of it, and Sam's eyes flickered open automatically. Before he could close them again he'd seen it all. The colours. The purple, the blue, the green, and all the red. It was blurry, so very blurry. He couldn't make out faces, bodies, even where he was. He didn't need to, he already knew.

He snapped hsi eyes shut again.

"Hey kid." A voice growled in his ear.

He opened his eyes and galnced at the blurry, unfamiliar surroundings. That voice was familiar.

It spoke again, the same sentence, except this time it seemed further away.

The tan-coloured image around him faded and everything was black again.

Cold black. Safe black.

Sam hoped it would stay black forever.

He couldn't face the world anymore. He didn't want to face the world anymore.

The voice spoke again and Sam finally realised who it was. It was Des.

'Oh god, he's come to finish me off.' Sam thought to himself. He stopped. Who was this man speaking in his head? Sam didn't think such unkind things about people.

He sighed. It was true then. He must still be alive.

'I don't want to be alive.' He screamed in his head. 'I want to die; i want to die like everyone else. I want...' He stopped when he heard sobbing.

An oh-s-familar sobbing. He realised who it was and his heart shattered like glass. Cass was there, and she was crying. He'd made her cry. It was the one thing he'd promised himself he would never do.

'I want to be alive.' He started to tell himself then, as he struggled to open his eyes and see her. Tell her it woul be okay. 'I want to live; i want to live like everyone else. I don't want Cass to cry again. Especially not for me. i want to live.'


	3. Easter 2004

Chapter Two:

Easter 2004

There were thousdands of people in the stadium.

There was only one time Matthew Harker had ever seen this many people, and, coincidently, that's why they were all here.

Thousands of people, dressed in red, now comfortably packed into an area that was usually only home to 23 at a time. It was a tearful sight. There were thousands of tears too, maybe even millions. They were everywhere. They splashed the cheeks of children as young as 8. Many of them weren't even born at the time, but nonetheless, their tears were falling as freely as the adults' around them.

There were litres of tears on the cheeks of women. The emotional sex, as his father called them. His mother was a terrible cryer. She cried about everything. Spilt milk. She was standing beside him now. Tears flooding down her cheeks.

Matthew's big brother was beside her. He glanced at Matthew with a soft smile. Robert, named after their father, was playing the usual big brother role. Now Matthew was the youngest he'd have to get used to that.

Robert wasn't crying. He was a tough bloke out in the open. He'd cry tonight. He'd cry later. He'd cry tomorrow. Matthew couldn't decide which was the worst day of the two.

Their father, Robert SNR, was on Rob's other side. He was standing still and stiff, like many of the other fathers in the stadium, but tears were glistening on his cheeks as well. You couldn't not cry. That dull ache. It still hurt.

Matthew rubbed his cheek with his free hand. His other hand was gripping his wife's hand for support. Her support for him.

She hadn't been there that day. She didn't know. They all ran through his head, those horrid thoughts, everytime he brought her here. Then he realised again. She didn't need to know. She loved him, she knew it hurt him, and she helped him with that. She listened when he recollected. She kissed away the tears when he cried. She gripped his hand when she could sense it was shaking. She didn't need to understand. He didn't need her to.

He glanced at her. She was wearing his spare jersey. It was way too big for her. She looked like a child in her father's shirt. She looked beautiful.

She caught his eye and smiled, but tears were in her eyes. Matthew fell in love with her all over again. he slowly smiled back.

* * *

The stadium was almost empty, except for the small crowd of people in the centre on the pitch. 

There was Anne, Robert, Rob, Matthew, his wife Kate, Rob's girlfriend Emily, Susan Rickman, Thomas Rickman, Anne's niece Alex Foster, her boyfriend William, Anne's sister Yvonne, Christopher Rickman, Nick Klein and Sam's childhood friend Greg Hallifax. They were standing in a circle, looking everywhere but the small urn in the middle of them. Almost all the men were staring at their feet. Matthew was looking up at the stands across from him. Nick was looking at his hands. Almost all the women were crying into their hankies. Alex was staring blankly into space, tears not seen but obvious they were once there.

Anne finally looked up from her hankie and cleared her throat. "We're here today to remember my little boy, Sam." She stopped, overcome by a new wave of tears. Robert put his hand on his wife's shoulder but she shook her head. She was determined to continue.

"Sam died in a horrible accident, along with five other officers, having a good time. He was a good boy, a lad, and he loved having a good time with his mates." Nick and Greg smiled sadly.

Anne continued. "We're here today not because this is when Sam died, but because Sam wasn't just a good officer and a lovely son, but also a diehard Liverpool fan." Robert, Rob and Matthew shifted slightly.

"This afternoon we all remembered th death of 96 of our fellow Liverpudlians. My Sam was at that game. He was in one of those pens, with Matthew, and they saw the full horror of the disaster. They lived, unlike many, and i thank Christ for that everyday." Kate glanced at Matthew and squeezed his hand.

"He had a bigger plan for my two youngest boys. Matthew went to university, he became a doctor. He saves people. He makes sure no one ever dies unnecessarily again."

Rob touched Matthew on the arm proudly.

"Samuel, he followed the family trade. He decided to become a policeman. He hadn't wanted to be one before. He told me when he announced it to everyone, he'd wanted to be a football player, and he was good at it to, but after the disaster he wanted to be a policeman. He wanted to make a difference. he wanted to be one of a new breed. A policeman that really cares."

Robert and Rob glanced at each other. Robert smiled at his son. William glanced at Alex. They too were both officers. Nick looked at his hands again.

"Sam was an incredibly loyal person, and he loved this city with all his heart." She laughed softly, sadly. "He couldn't even bring himself to love anyone outside it."

She glanced at the Rickmans. Cass' father, brother and sister were standing there. Cass' mother had been too ill to attend.

"Sam fell in love with the most beautiful girl in Liverpool. Had he been given more time, well, i'm sure they would've been okay."

Cass' father smiled. Christopher nodded approval. Susan wiped her eyes with the back of her fingers.

Anne looked down at the urn. "In this urn isn't Sam'sashes. They were scattered a while ago. Instead we cremated his Liverpool FC jersey. He loved it, and i regret not cremating him in it, but now we can remember."

She lifted the lid off the urn and smiled sadly down at the contents. "Sam. You saw death at the age of 17. You grew, you made a difference. Finally, you saw death again at 30. You loved only three things in life. Your job, your family and friends, and finally, your football team. Now you're with Cass in heaven, and you died in your second home, we send you this. May you rest in peace my precious baby boy."

She lifted out the ashes and scattered them across the football pitch.

Anne was a spiritual person, something she knew she'd be alone, but even she could see it in everyone's faces. They knew, somewhere up there, Sam was looking down on Anfield Stadium, on his friends and family, and he was smiling.


End file.
